touchdown

on every square millimetre

of your surface

your toes depended

 

a wild family

of moons

soles scrawled

 

with messages about limits

of divorce

and divinity

 

and up your legs which are more memories

than travelling companions

being

 

responsible, their beauty catalogued,

their genius to

walk, but now,

 

a pink brown lack

of discernment, then blandness, and forward to

glistening disorder

 

all these hectares and I have not yet found

a blemish

wild I cried,

 

kissing your absences

and profoundly

asleep

 

to everything

on the other side

of your skin